


And we'll dance to our heartbeat

by CosmicNeutral



Series: Gbj jonelias week waddup [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Complicated relationships are difficult to portray in dances so have some somff, Dancing, First Dance, Jon its a fucking crush, M/M, Pining, gbj jonelias week babbey, i just wanted the snow vibes ig dont at me, i know its august i dont know why the first chapter is a holidy dance, oh now you get it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicNeutral/pseuds/CosmicNeutral
Summary: Five dances throughout their life, plus one.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Gbj jonelias week waddup [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869055
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. First Dance- Holiday

The Company Holiday party seemed more of a wedding than the obligatory awkward work gathering it was. Old wood, stained windows, and a heavy blanket of snow over the high roof made it seem as though the old rented building was either a picture book scene- or an illustrated murder mystery scene. 

Inside, a wide floor with heavy beams holding the ceiling left plenty of room for the party-goers to interact. Tinny holiday music came over the old music players set around the building as the pianist hovered by the refreshment table for a rest, and Jon couldn't help but wonder whose money the Institute was blowing. Probably the Lukas', if the other researchers were right and the off-again year stretched into two years for their boss and his apparantly forever ex husband. 

The plus-ones with their partners and the just-mes overindulging gathered around and their voices rose and dropped. Jon impatiently counted down until he could politely abscond, and Sasha wouldn't be upset with him come monday.

Sasha's dark green dress shouldn't have been difficult to spot in the crowd- Jon very much blamed the donor in the obnoxious colors talking at Elias. The gentleman _had_ to be a donor, because Jon could not picture him working in the Institute. He gestured with his belled sleeve- as in, sleeve with bells sewn in because the bright red and yellows apparently weren't e fucking enough, and gestured again and again. For a frail looking man, he kept on nearly spilling his champagne and Elias' painted lips twisted into a thin, false smile as he downed his own glass.

Jon had, up till that point, only interacted with his boss enough to get the "please, call me Elias," but he could almost vividly picture the rest of Elias' expression; eyes blank, shoulders tense, false smile firmly in place. The gentleman waved his arm again, and Elias took a step back. The swinging of his gold earring stark against the dark hair and dark green suit and Elias adjusted his tie and Elias pushed his styled hair back and Elias' mouth quirked into a smirk and Elias Elias Elias Elias.

Elias met Jon's eyes.

A group of the plus-ones broke Jon's focus, whirling between them with laughing "I'm so happy you get along's"s and "we should meet up again!"s and various other white lies. The group of five eventually passed, but Jon found himself glaring at their backs as they went. Didn't they know how loud they were being? How rude.

Jon's eyes flickered back through the crowd, but couldn't spot Elias. The donor seemed to have caught someone else in conversation. Jon entertained himself by imagining the man gesturing himself into flight, slowly rising as his arms went faster and faster and he kept on talking and laughing as though nothing was wrong. 

The entertainment in that quickly passed, and Jon was bored again. The pianist sat back down, apparently, as the tinny sound fizzled to a stop. A crystal, bell like note rang out, and Jon was ready to go before he fell asleep. He'd just have to leave without saying bye to Sasha. What a bummer.

Jon click-clacked his way to the door, humming under his breath something without a tune- 

"Leaving already?" A smooth voice cut through Jon's thoughts, and he froze, standing rigid.

"Pardon?" 

"The part's not even reached it's peak," Elias murmured, coming into focus. "Or did I miss that in the socializing?"

"I wasn't aware these things had peaks, not really my scene."

"Oh yes," Elias murmured, placing an arm on Jon's and turning him gently around to face the party-goers again. "See, the first time the pianist plays is a warm up, and the intermission is when everyone, ah, indulges a little." Here, Elias flicked his glass at the group of five that had passed him by. "If you listen close, they're conversations can be quite entertaining."

"I see," Jon responded, though he did not. What was the point of eavesdropping?

"I dont believe you do," and Elias stepped closer, tilting his head. "Do you hear the silly, tipsy truths they say?"

Ah. "So, it's about the schadenfraud?" Jon asked, laughing under his breath. "I suppose we take our little joys somewhere."

Elias laughed along, nodding. "I suppose we do." His face, however, quickly morphed- the smile fell flat and his dark eyes dulled as expression seemed to leave him- it wasn't hard to see why.

The colorful donor was talking at many people, making his way over to them with waving, jingling arms and rising eyebrows.

"He saw Rosie whirling miss James around the last piano song, and has been trying to get anyone he can to whirl him around like that," Elias hissed under his breath. Jon swears he saw an eye twitch, and another augh bubbled out.

"I imagine," Jon commented, the tail end of a chuckle carrying into his words, "you'd rather not be that anyone?"

Elias very quickly turned, guiding Jon furthur away and very distinctly avoiding looking behind him.

"Absolutely not; there are very few people I'd like to dance with, anyways, and _Fairchild_ is not one of them." Jon's laughter died down, but amusement kept his spirits high- even as the heat of the building had his arm and face a shade too warm- peculiar, how his arm was only warm were Elias touched.

Jon noticed only as they were coming to a stop just how Elias had been leading him away- how seamlessly Elias had taken Jon's hand and rested it on his own arm, how gently Elias had led him and how thoughtlessly Jon had followed. When had Jon gotten so close? And another question, one that Jon felt was more urgent while the conversation was still present; most people were frustrated, when conversations from hours ago were picked back up. Jon would hate for it to supposedly "die" before he could ask, he was terribly curious. 

Would Elias dance with him?

After all, Elias had apparently had rather high standards. Also, his last husband was something of a large man. It was certainly curious, it was not as though Jon was personally invested, but would Elias take it as curiosity? Would he take it as an insult? 

Elias _had willingly c_ aught him ought to speak with, instead of someone more important. Surely another donor would make a better excuse not to talk to- Fairchild, apparently?- but instead Elias was standing beside Jon, talking with Jon, leading Jon away.

Surely, that meant Jon fell into some standards? It was more likely he was being pitied, but the fact that Elias hadn't found someone better to speak to spoke higher than that, at least.

Jon blinked, as thin fingers tugged his hair into place, and lightning trailed where they had been.

"Something on your mind, Jonathan?" And oh. Oh that was weird. People usually stuck with Jon, never his full name.

"Just a curiosity," Jon mused, unable to bring himself to lie- not until that odd feeling passed through him.

"Well, curiosity leads to brilliance" Elias' voice was low, and he was close to Jon and speaking quiet. More a whisper, but that didn't sound right either. Jon felt the room warm more- or maybe he came down with something? Spontaneously? It wasnt unheard of. Wait. Elias had asked something. Another quiet sound brought Jon out of his musing and he blinked up at Elias.

"Pardon?"

Elias stepped back just a little and Jon numbly followed, missing his presence, before catching himself. That wasn't good. He watched Elias' painted lips form the question again, transfixed on this man, "and what is this curiosity of yours?"

"Would you dance with me?" Again, that twitch of a mouth, except it grows into a slow grin, the way a rumor grows into a murder.

"Well, mister Sims," and Jon doesn't like being called that as much as Jonathan but he did kind of like the quiet voice of was said in so maybe it cancelled out- before he could think on that too hard Eloas was going on, "how bold, and to a recently divorced man as well."

A stone settled into his stomach, lightning spread up from where Elias' arm gently held his own as Jon stuttered out "I-I only meant- I mean to say- that's not-"

" _Jonathan,"_ and it was back. Elias stepped in fron of Jon, no longer watching him from the side of his eye and now devoting his full attention to Jon, only Jon, dissecting and Seeing and building and knowing Jon. It was breathtaking, being on the end of this gaze. "Jonathan," repeated in a soft whisper, as Elias' other hand came up to gently rest on Jon's waist and Jon grabbed his shoulder and held and they're hands already twined together came up and

The pianist's tune shifted, and Jon knew it was a new song playing this time, as Elias took a step back, and Jon was helpless but to follow.

"I would be thrilled to dance with you."

He kept one hand firmly clutching Elias' shoulder; he felt as though, if he let go, he would shatter. 

The other hand, he left loose in Elias' grip. Elias' hands were mostly gentle, soft- though his ting finger was calloused- and for all the finery he wore, Jon could notice no rings. Elias' grip was firm and unyeilding, and Jon Followed him.


	2. S of t?

"You know," Jon murmured, closing the door with a soft 'click', "you dont have to check up on me _every other week."_

Elias laughed some as Jon stepped into the office, and wasn't that something? Elias. Said so _casually,_ and more so the more he says it. _Elias._ He's in front of his desk this time, leaning against the dark wood. 

"Well," Elias drawls, eyes glancing over to his window. "Its quite the change, isnt it? I'd hate for something to be wrong, and I didn't know it due to, ah. Negligence."

Jon could hardly stop the scoff at that, though he felt his face heat as Elias glanced over, a delicate eyebrow raised. 

" _Is_ something the matter, Jon?"

"No, sir," Jon replied, because he could do his job. He could. Elias kept looking with the same impassive expression, before softening, and gesturing for Jon to take one of the seats in his office.

Jon sat. He tucked his feet under his chair and glanced out the very same window Elias favored.

"Was it my wording, then?" Elias asked. ( _jon would never tire of using his name_ ) Jon's finger drummed a rhythm, and his shoulders rose, a steady weight settling in the back of his mind. He heard then, the record player skip, and then start up again, playing quietly, a background noise Jon only sometimes noticed.

"Negligence," Jon found himself spitting, "falls to _Gertrude's_ feet, not yours. I dont know what that batty woman was doing, or how she was organising anything! I'm sure she knew what she was doing at first, but honestly? She shouldn't have been the archivist." He settles this firmly, before deflating, sheepishly glancing over to Elias. "Apologies."

Elias merely smiled, crossing his ankles and leaning on his armrest, waving with one hand as though dismissing something. 

"No apologies needed, Jonathan. I _quite_ agree. Although the circumstances are rather somber, my archives were certainly needing some new blood."

"Its not terrible, really," Jon amended, finger drumming against eachother now. "Sasha has been a great help in getting things together." Sasha had been more than that, in all honesty. She probably would've been better for the job, but- well. Jon wasnt about to look a gift horse in the mouth. And she was up for promotion in research, anyways, she chose to come to the archives with him.

Still, she would've been better.

"Is that so?"

"We've been updating and digitizing what we can, and making backups of what we can't. It also means I can order things to my specifications. At the moment, I'm going by date, but I'm wanting to see if there's another more effective way."

And so time drones on, Jon walking Elias through the changes hes making to the archives. Elias' eyes track Jon as he speak, and Elias leans in to hear Jon and asks Jon questions about the why's and the how's, and Jon is.

Intimidated, yes, but also. Thrilled. 

Not much is different from last time, of course, but Elias still shows interest. The topic slowly switches to the other archive staff, and then shifts more- though Jon couldn't tell how- until Elias is leaning back in his seat and telling Jon about the cafe he stops in on his way to work, and how it has the most divine tea, and Jon's is enthralled.

Elias speaks with little movements, Jon notices. Graceful movements. His rings catch the light as one hand flicks a ringlets of hair back, and his painted lips form the words carefully.

Jon fears his attention wanes, and- well, by then it's best to get back to productive work. He's already taken much of Elias free time, after all. He dallies some, and looks for excuses to stay, but work has been over for a good while and he still had one more statement he wanted to read through- it was one of the kinds that refused to digitize, frustrating enough. He had tried a typed back-up, a scanned back up. He had tried genuine pictures, but it still refused. 

Something deep and aching and great seemed to open up in Jon's chest, a terrible hole that was slowly ripping apart, and Jon wasnt sure if it was from the job or the statements or the man in front of him.

It had quickly become a sense of security to Jon, that aching tear deep in his chest. 

The statement was a curious thing, regarding a kid and her sister and a dog that wasnt a dog. Jon wanted to read it fully, understand it, see who was talking; childhood trauma does so stem into ghost stories, he had found.

It was with a record skip that Jon realized the only sound left in the room was the record player itself. Elias had shifted, and his purple lips were twisted up into a teasing smirk, eyes lingering on Jon still, meeting Jon's eyes where Jon had trailed off. His leg was crossed and he was lounging on the chair in front of Jon, looking for all intents the part of a wild cat Watching unassuming prey play, and being too curious to attack- or rather, a king, a noble, someone who knew their worth, and that worth was beyond anything Jon could compare too.

Jon felt his mouth go dry, and his eyes flicked between Elias' own, amused eyes.

"Ah, what was that?" Jon asked, his voice strained.

"I was just thinking," Elias murmured. "I am quite pleased to have found you." Jon coughed, and finally broke eye contact. He quickly ran his eyes over the room; the dark carpet and the dark picture frames and the record player in the corner.

"I think you have far too much hope for me."

"Someone has too; you'll be brilliant as my Archivist." Elias' eyes closed after that, his head tilting up as though listening to something, and Jon was equally grateful and cold without Elias' searing gaze, the deep ache at those words seeming to resonate. A low tone being played on a violin, slowly rising. Jon was pretty sure record players didnt go as long as this, but.

"I do love this song," he murmured. "It's been some time since I've been able to just listen."

Jon watched, enraptured, as Elias listened to the song, barely breathing; gold dusted his eyes, a stark contrast, and Jon wanted to be held by him.

"It would be nice to dance to, I imagine," Jon breathed- it felt blasphemous to speak any louder, though breathing felt heavy. Elias' eyes drifted open.

"Indeed."

Elias slowly stood up, Looking at Jon, only Jon. He glided over to Jon, steps delicate, and jon looked up at him, heart hammering, thoughts empty. He stared up at Elias, at Elias' eyes, at Elias' hand, held out to him.

"If I recall correctly, you make a resplendent dance partner." 

Again, Jon took his hand; how could not? Jon took Elias' hand and slowly rose, wondering how to read this, how to understand. Elias' hand settled on Jon's waist, and with a gently tug, they were off; gentle padding across the dark floors, drifting in and out of the dying daylight. 

Why would Elias dance with him, here? Choose to stand so close, choose to hold Jon so gently, with no excuse of parties or wine? 

"You think too loud," Elias murmured, soft hand cradling Jon's. "I _am_ so pleased to have met you, Archivist."

"Yes, well," Jon coughed, eyes darting to the window as they spun into the light again. He watched as a stray wind stirred leaves around. The gaping maw in his chest seemed to settle closed, soothed into silence. "Well. I can only hope to live up to your expectations."

"So long as you dont follow your predecessor's more volatile of habits," he responded, and back into the shadows they stepped. Jon kept his face from distorting, just barely, at the mention of _Gertrude._

"I can assure you, I will be a better a _rchivist_ then her, at least. She _should not_ have been in _my Archives."_ A slow smile grew along Elias face; lips the color of a dark flower, one hiding poison in it's thorns. Jon huffed, and looked away again. "At least, not if she couldn't tell the difference between nineteen-twenty-three wives-tales or a genuine account from five months ago."

"I'm sure," Elias assured, slowly settling to a stop, holding Jon still, watching, watching, Watching, watching Jon, "that your Archives will be well enough soon." 

They stood there for- Jon wasn't sure. Time had always seemed immeasurable in its inevitable waltz forward, but at this moment it seemed still- a picture, faded around the edges, soft light barely illuminating the subject. Jon stared at Elias, barely daring to breath, taking in as many features, trying to understand this man through the little he could see; the motivations, through his upturned mouth. The expectations, through the way he held Jon. The events that led to this moment, through the calloused on his palm. The way to continue, through the shades of brown painted throughout his eyes.

Jon came up blank; he could not read Elias, though he felt more than saw that Elias had no such qualms.

He was not entirely unsettled by that.

The hole in Jon's chest seemed to _scream,_ something- something- something trying to _open_ that was not meant to open, an ache that pulsed- but not to Jon's heartbeat. 

"I can only hope so."

Elias stepped away- the screaming abyss settles into a gentle ache, and Jon stepped to Follow him. Elias lifted Jons hand up slowly, pressing his lips to Jon's pulse and holding there a beat. He dropped Jon's hand, and Jon let him step away this time.

"I have taken enough of your time," Elias murmured. Wasn't there a statement you planned to read before sundown?"

"I," Jon started, blinking and settling, as his focus seemed to spill back out into the world around him. The walls, the desk, the window, the chairs, the record player (that he now suspected to actually be a radio designed to look like a record player, though he could not say where that information came from). "Yes, of course." He stepped away, and walked to the door- Elias Watched him the entire time.

On his way out, he turned, finally remembering what he was going to say-

"Good luck on the meeting tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look idk what to say this covers a Large period of time, theres gonna be time skips. That's the thing I love and hate about 5+1 fics; there are so many moments your not gonna see and yes I k n o w that it moves fast and jumps from casual conversation too fast i had a really good transition in mind b4 I started writing it and then I l o s t I t I'm s o r r y
> 
> ((Also it's an excuse to write this thing in my brain hush this is I n d u l g e n t))
> 
> ((Also Also. Id rather be writing magic. I have. No idea. What I'm doing here.))


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